Dance Dance Revolution
by The Sarcastic Polar Bear
Summary: Because video games can lead to unusual outcomes. Crackfic.


**A/N: Hi, all. Short crackfic here. I remember sometime in Season 6, Wilson said he plays Dance Dance Revolution, and this was inspired... I own nothing.**

Gregory House rolled his eyes as he watched his best friend try to keep up with the lights flashing across the television screen.

"I told you that Dance Dance Revolution is gay," he spat.

"House, it's good exercise!" Wilson argued, groaning as he lost yet another game.

"Then why aren't you any good at it?" House took a sip of his soda as Wilson started the level over. "I could film this and send it to everybody we know." He chuckled, finding the sight of Wilson's frantically scurrying limbs amusing.

Wilson ignored him. "Right, and then you'll have to sit through a lecture from Cuddy."

"Right, and then you'll remember that I don't listen to lectures from anybody." He cracked a smile. "Except myself, because I'm the boss."

"Damn it. Why do I keep losing?"

"Because you suck at it. Hell, _I_ could do better than that, and I'm a cripple." House held up his cane.

"You wanna bet?"

"If I get a higher score, you have to put pink streaks in your hair and talk like a pimp all day tomorrow at work."

"And you do the same when you lose."

"Nope, because I'm better than you." House stood up and started the game, ignoring the pain that shot through his right thigh. He was not one to lose a bet to anything, not even pain.

"What the hell? How did you get a higher score?" Wilson demanded.

"I'm a good dancer. It must run in my genes."

"Yes, House, I'm sure your parents were ballerinas!"

"No, but they were the ones who danced naked at the playground. Or that may have been me and a random girl."

"I want a rematch."

"Go ahead, Jimmy boy. Embarrass yourself." House plopped down on the sofa. "I have the pink hair spray ready to go."

"Ha!" Wilson practically yelled. "I beat you this time!"

"Don't get your panties in a knot. I beat you the first time, so you'll be tomorrow's idiot."

"And I beat you this time, so you'll be tomorrow's idiot."

"I always act like an idiot. I think it turns the ladies on."

"Yeah, because I always see a long line of horny girls begging you to act like a jerk." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"You see? Then again, they may be my many previous one night stands telling me that they have a mini me inside them."

"House, just go dye your hair!" Wilson groaned.

"Wilson, just go dye your hair!" House mocked, imitating his friend's exasperated tone. "You're tonight's loser. But you're always the loser, so I guess I can't really pin that against you, huh?'

"Fine. One more rematch. Whoever gets a score under one thousand is the loser, got it?" Wilson arched his eyebrow challengingly.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that your face may freeze that way?" House chuckled. "I bet that would scare all the patients away, and I could do whatever I wanted instead of working. Or _whoever_."

"Just focus on_ losing_."

"Wilson, you really don't do well at this mocking thing. I should enroll you in the Greg House Academy of Bastards. And would you look there? 715. Beat that."

"I bet I will, and then you'll be the one Cuddy yells at."

"Seriously, stop trying to act like me. There's only enough room for one." House pointed to himself. "And that spot's taken."

"Barely enough room for just you," Wilson muttered. House smirked proudly.

"There's too much of you to go around. Try caring less. I can teach you and Cameron how to not give a damn about anybody or anything. It's much more fun than caring about everything from an old lady to the spider you're about to step on."

Wilson looked down at his feet, causing himself to lose several points. "House, you ass!"

"See? Wasn't that fun?"

"No, because now I have to start over!" Wilson let out a sigh as he started over. "I'm going to ignore you."

"If you do that, how can I let you know how stupid you look when you flail your legs around like that?" He grinned. "700. I won by fifteen points. Looks like-"

"Both of us are going to work with pink hair. I said under one thousand."

"But I was ahead, genius."

"You're not getting out of this! You're the one who insisted on the bet, anyway."

"You're the one who challenged me to a bet."

"But you made the bet up, so it looks like you're going down."

"Dear God, please stop trying to trash talk. It makes you sound like Chase."

"Stop trying to argue with me so we can get this over with."

"We don't even go to work until tomorrow. I'll wait until you leave so I can do it."

"Oh, no you don't! You'll just skip out on the bet and make me look like a moron."

"You're already a moron, so I'd just be helping you out there."

The next morning, they strolled into the hospital, bright neon pink streaks adorning their hair. Cuddy peeked her head out of her office and sighed. She'd let this one slip.

Knowing House and Wilson, she didn't even want to know.

**A/N: I know, I'm full of crap. But that's why you all love me!**


End file.
